Bird Song
by Aribh1306
Summary: "That was how people who did not like her would call Hermione Granger: Lady Granger, as an allusion to Lord Gellert Grindelwald, her predecessor in the field of the dark arts." [AU]


**A/N:** Not beta read. So much Alternativa Universe it hurts. OOCness could be avoided until a certain point here, sorry. Prompt given by Cella (voldybadass on tumblr): Hermione as a dark witch and Tom as the one who has to defeat her. Losely inspired by Florence + the Machine song "Bird Song".

* * *

**Bird Song  
**

_'Well I didn't tell anyone but_  
_ A bird flew by, and saw what I'd done_  
_ It set up a nest outside_  
_ And he sang about what I'd become'_

* * *

It was impossible not to know him. All the fuss that man had caused was difficult to ignore. He should be one of them, though. A half-blood, a bright half-blood that would be great for their cause: Muggle and magical blood mixed inside the veins of an extremely intelligent and powerful man. That was a treasure, a treasure she couldn't have because Tom Riddle was too bloody stubborn and believed her politic of placing the more developed ones above the others something useless.

What the man didn't realize was that her government took the wizarding world from its former decayed state. Before her, the older and pure families ruled, taking the chance of those who were lowborn or whose parents were Muggles. Those traditional families were formed by a bunch of useless parasites that sucked all the resources of the Ministry, took most of the places at Hogwarts and, to boot, were always making sure to put those who did not belong to their class bellow, reminding them of how inferior they were. Mudbloods and blood traitors, which was how the purebloods would call them.

But now she was making sure everyone who was worth having a chance would have it. Powerful and dedicated wizards and witches would be allowed to be educated at Hogwarts and work their way up to the top of their society. Most of them, she noticed, were the so-called Mudbloods and blood traitors. The traditional families soon showed themselves to be what she had always feared: useless and unwilling to work hard. Their fortune and reputation came from the old wizards, the ones who actually did something, and they kept gaining more and more money on the expense of those long gone wizards and witches, but never doing anything of their own.

The Malfoys, for example. The last family member that did something was old Abraxas Malfoy with his researches on magical creatures. After him, Lucius Malfoy did nothing but sit his lazy arse on his armchair in front of his fireplace inside his manor, ordering house-elves all day long while he busied himself with gloating on his pureblood status. When she took over the Ministry, his son, Draco, was already doing the same thing, though Draco's job as a useless man quickly ended once she sent her people to take everything superfluous from those wizards and witches that only served to clog the magical world. These people didn't need all those treasures they had in their houses… For example, Draco Malfoy didn't need to have a framed time-turner in his drawing room just because it looked pretty on his wall. She took it, along with the tons of gold and other trinkets they had in their manor and Gringotts' vault. Now, Draco Malfoy worked for the Ministry as an assistant in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, a job he would never have hadn't she changed the order of things. In the previous wizarding world, Malfoy would have a chair in the wizengamot without even applying for it, inheriting it from his father.

Still, there were a few wizards and witches that stood against her. No, not really stood, but whispered things about her. They were too scared of actually standing against Hermione Granger, the Muggle-born witch that conquered an army of followers and that was now playing the same game Gellert Grindelwald played years ago but with their roles reversed. Anyway, most of the people who were against her ideas were the remains of the old, traditional wizarding families whose privileges she had taken but there was a minority, a few naïve souls, that were the kind of people she would be willing to take under her wing – hardworking people, Muggleborns, half-bloods and a few decent purebloods – and that, still, thought she was wrong. These people would say that what she was doing was an extreme form of segregation, a system that favoured the former minority and didn't hesitate to condemn the purebloods, a personal revenge of hers, an abuse of power. They argued that her use of dark magic to get to the top showed how vile she was… But, what could she do? Dark magic was strong magic, and to rise you need power, as you need it to stay on the top. She did use dark magic, yes, but what was dark magic but just another kind of magic? It was just too powerful for everyone to understand, so society started to built up myths around those spells and curses, myths that painted them as evil things in order to keep people from getting their hands on them.

Tom Riddle was one of these people who let his whispers flow through the dark alleys of the wizarding world, whispers containing outrageous criticisms towards her, serious accusations and rumours. He claimed to know the kind of magic she used because he also studied the dark arts – a Defence Against Dark Arts teacher he was, until she got him away from his teaching post at Hogwarts after he started to make the children get the wrong idea of who she was. Hadn't he be such a powerful wizard, she would have her followers finishing him way earlier but she liked to watch him dance in front of her, trying to convince people of his beliefs and failing miserably after they learned he had been sacked from Hogwarts after trying to conspire against her. He had the pose of a pureblood traditionalist, an elegant Slytherin that reminded people of the former elite and that was enough to make most people to turn away from him.

But she knew him. She knew Tom Riddle was nothing more than a half-blood raised in a Muggle orphanage in the middle of London. The son of a witch and a Muggle, Riddle only met his father when he was a teenager and learned some nasty tings about his mother and her family – something about a love potion, apparently –but he was never close to his paternal family anyway. When she was at Hogwarts, he was there too, one year older than her and the epitome of what she wanted to be one day: powerful, talented and loved. And Hermione achieved all of this and much more, while Tom stayed behind, teaching kids and trying to come up with silly conspiracies. He could be so much and, still, he chose to stay behind. That was rather pathetic in her opinion but she couldn't say she wasn't surprised at all… Although Riddle was some kind of role model to her, the witch still remembered how he used to cling to some pretty useless things back in school. Divination, for example, was a field in which he would immerse himself, dedicating so much time he could spend doing more useful things.

It was a shame. Truly a shame. Hermione would do anything to have a wizard like Tom Riddle by her side.

* * *

He still remembered the girl that she once was. A small thing with bushy hair and big front teeth that was well known amongst all the teachers for her intelligence and control over magic, just like how he had been known before her. He remembered imagining how that little Gryffindor would, one day, make a change in the wizarding world after accepting a ridiculous bottom she had been giving away to everyone at Hogwarts, something about a organization to defend the house-elves. He still had the old bottom with the acronym on it – SPEW not Spew, as she would say.

Well, he was right. Hermione Granger did make a change in the wizarding world but not in the way he expected it to be. The premise of her system was an interesting one, he couldn't deny it, but the witch had taken it all to a much deeper level, some kind of personal plan to shove down to the ground those who humiliated her during school and who said she would be nothing thanks to the fact she was a Muggle-born. If things worked like this, Tom would proudly be by her side right now, cursing every idiot who dared to make fun of him due to his Muggle heritage. But, no, the world did not work like that… She wanted to change the world so other Muggle-borns wouldn't have to go through what she went, right? That was good, actually, that was amazing. But punishing every single pureblood in the United Kingdom in order to get what she wanted was way out of control… Yes, that was what she was doing, punishing them. It was not a fair work the one she did. Hermione Granger put her people to invade traditional families houses and sack all of their possessions, leaving them with a few clothes and a few coins with which they would make a new life. Those who opposed to her were met with a duel, a torture and even death.

He had met her answer to his opposition already, when Albus Dumbledore didn't think twice before sacking him from his position as a teacher at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had never liked him, it was true, but he had thought the man had more brains than to blindly obey someone who clearly was abusing her power. But no, he was kicked out of the castle, out of his home, without money and with a huge label as a traitor. No one else would take him even with his great OWLs and NEWTs when he was considered a conspirator. No one would buy his books when they thought he would try to put treacherous ideas in their heads.

So he joined the so-called opposition groups. Secret organizations that would try to show to the world who Hermione Granger, the great protector of the wizarding world, truly was. They relied, most of the time, on the comparisons between Granger's system with Grindelwald's. The former dark wizard had a similar way of working but, instead of putting down the purebloods, he did so with the dirty blooded witches and wizards. But both of them used the same premise of doing it all for the greater good, both of them opened a few exceptions for those who seemed to be a good addition to their perfect society and both of them managed to be loved by their people.

Amongst those who were involved in these organizations were a few not-so-useful individuals – Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, for instance, who only wanted to take Granger down in order to restore their place in the magical high society – but there was also those who actually had some brains. The Zabinis, the clever and rather dangerous Adelina and her son, Blaise; the former influential Crouchs, Barty Sr. with his knowledge of politics and his son, Barty Jr., with his intelligence and good grip at magic; Regulus Black, whose brother was at Granger's side; Quirinus Quirrel, a shy man with a great knowledge of dark magic; Severus Snape, always so mysterious and quiet but also always knowing everything that happened inside the wizarding world; and many more… They were good wizards and witches, the few of them who didn't end up in Azkaban for treachery and didn't join Granger in order to get a few privileges, like Draco's aunt, Bellatrix, who managed to get a low position in Hermione's army along with a few other purebloods who enjoyed the torture party the witch allowed them to make from time to time, when it was needed.

In the middle of all that mess the wizarding world had become in the last few years, Tom often caught himself thinking about how Hermione Granger managed to get all the opportunities she had in her life and throw them away when she decided to make that plan of hers as a personal revenge.

* * *

"You are being charged for the crimes of treason, conspiracy and violence against aurors, Mr. Riddle. Do you know the penalty for such crimes?"

Tom looked up to where Hermione Granger was sitting on the place of the judge in the wizengamot court. If he tried really hard, he could still see the little Gryffindor with big front teeth. Maybe the former Hermione was still in her brown eyes because the rest of her was a different person. Her hair was now cut short – a small voice inside his head laughed, saying that she had finally found a way to tame that mess of hair – and she sat up straight in an elegant pose that he would expect to see in a Malfoy or a Black. Her wand was still the same Vinewood wand, clasped between her delicate fingers, and there was now, attached to the breast of her robes, a golden in with the Ministry of Magic's symbol. She was the Ministry now.

"Azkaban?" he asked, letting a tiny smile appear on his lips, enjoying the way the witch's brows furrowed in annoyance. "Or maybe a torture session with your friends?"

"Are you mocking us, Mr. Riddle?" She took a deep breath, pressing her lips in a thin line as she watched him. "This could be punished with Azkaban or exile…"

"Oh, like how you did with your friends?" He saw the woman flinch and restrained himself from letting his smile grow wider. Tom knew very well that was a sore spot in Granger's life. "I would feel honoured to have the same destiny as Harry Potter and the Weasleys. I heard you sent them to exile to avoid having them finished off by your guard when they noticed you had lost your mind. I just ask you, please, not to send me to Australia… That's where you sent the Weasleys, right? I would rather be in Russia. I could take my relatives there, you see, my father's family love that country."

"Mind your mouth when talking to her, _Mudblood_!" He recognized Bellatrix's high-pitched voice.

_"What did you call him?"_ Hermione hissed, turning her head to stare at Lestrange with narrowed eyes, her wand held tightly in her hand. "What did you call him, Lestrange?"

"I'm… I'm sorry, madam," whispered the older woman, bowing her head and recoiling in her seat.

"Now, Mr. Riddle," Granger started to speak again "Your crimes can be punished by a long stay in Azkaban or the exile. That if we don't find out that you are involved in those nasty little groups that plot against the government. In that case, you know very well the punishment is, irrevocably, death. That's the law and we are here to abide by the law."

"The law you created to fulfil your need for vengeance, right, Miss Granger?"

"You really don't know when it's time to keep your mouth shut, don't you, Mr. Riddle?" A smile tugged on the corner of her lips as she stood up and walked down the stairs that led to the pitch where he was standing.

"I don't see why I can't speak if the only thing that comes out of my mouth is the truth, madam."

"That's an interesting trait. Someone ought to think you would be a good Gryffindor, not thinking about when it's time to stop," said Hermione and Riddle's smile widened. Yes, a mindless Gryffindor. That was the last thing he would ever be. "Mr. Riddle, a wizard like you shouldn't be where you stand right now, you should be there." She pointed to the seats on the court. "Then why are you meddling with those resented purebloods? Why do you insist in seeing me as a bad person?"

"I reckon your intentions are good, madam. While I was growing up in the wizarding world, there was nothing else I wanted but an society with equality, where no one would judge me for having a Muggle father." Tom saw Hermione's face soften a bit. "But I would like to see a society like that being built with fair movements and not with dark magic and mobs like the way you constructed your system."

"Do you think a fair play would have done it all?" she asked, motioning to the room around them. "No, Mr. Riddle, it wouldn't. As for dark magic… You, above all people, should know that dark magic is not as horrible as it seems. Aren't you a scholar of the field? Or did you forget the wonders of dark magic in order to focus on the art of predicting the future?"

"Of course I do understand the importance and the beauty of dark magic, madam. It's not something anyone can understand." He stared into her eyes for a long time before continuing: "I don't understand your disdain towards the Divination."

"It's a unstable field, anyone can see that, but that is not important…"

"Unstable field?" Tom chuckled, extending his hand to grab Granger's. This simple movement made at least half a dozen member of the jury get up and point their wands at him. "If you allow me, _milady_." She didn't seem to bother by his touch, neither by the silly title with which he addressed to her. That was how people who did not like her would call Hermione Granger: Lady Granger, as an allusion to Lord Gellert Grindelwald. "You have an interesting hand," he whispered, letting the tip of his fingers caress her palm. "It can tell us so much about you."

"Oh, really?" she asked, a mocking tone in her voice.

"Yes. Look here, this shows me you miss someone very much and that is hurting you badly." He pointed to a random line in her palm. It actually had nothing to do with her emotional state but it was a good way to distract her focused mind. Tom knew she would remember about Ron Weasley and that was enough to shake her resistance to an intrusion in her mind. It seemed to work, as he now could take a look, though blurred one, inside her thoughts. "And this one… Tells me how proud you are of yourself for having achieved all of this." Riddle took a step closer to her, letting his hand cover hers, his thumb caressing her skin. He now had a clear view inside her mind and another smile crept over his face as he saw what he needed. "It's the hand of a ruler, you know? Powerful, with magic flowing through it almost freely." He let his eyes wander from her hand to her bust, where a small, golden pendant was hanging from a golden string. "But… You are also pretty predictable."

"What?" It was as if an enchantment had been broken. Hermione's brown eyes lost their dreamy appearance as soon as Tom's grip on her mind loosened and her voice went back to its former previous dangerous tone.

"Did you really think it would be wise to walk around with a horcrux hanging from your neck?" he whispered, smiling and tightening the grip on her hand. "Also, what would your people say once they discovered you had the courage to create something as _horrendous_ as a horcrux?"

"You have no idea of you are talking about, Riddle," she spoke, her voice now trembling.

"Who did you kill, Ms. Granger? I bet it was Lucius Malfoy," he whispered, not wanting anyone else to hear it. "No one ever found him after that day he came to retrieve his post in the wizengamot, I bet you finished him off that day."

"Each word you say is a sentence against you, Riddle!"

"He told you one day someone would try to get you down. You knew he was right and you couldn't risk. You were mad at him and killed him in a fit of rage, didn't you?" A twisted smile stretched Riddle's lips. "It was horrible at first and you felt bad, until you noticed that was the right thing to do. Oh, believe me, Miss Granger, I know what killing feels like. I'm no saint but at least I do not _pretend_ to be one."

"You just admitted to have killed someone!"

"Yes, and you didn't deny to have done the same," he said and, finally, let go of her hand, stretching out his arm and closing his fingers around the pendant on her neck.

After that, hell broke loose inside that room. Granger screamed and suddenly was all over him, her wand shooting numerous curses and hexes. When Bellatrix Lestrange got up to send a curse in his direction, her husband, Rodolphus, pointed his wand at his wife and quickly made her fall unconscious on the floor. Everything was going according to plan. They had several people infiltrated in that room, disguised as Granger's followers thanks to the Polyjuice Potion. Rodolphus was actually Quirrel and the Carrows sibling, who were duelling against two unknown men, were the Zabinis. There were others but he was not paying attention to them as he tried to make Hermione back away from him even though the woman seemed to develop a instant thirst for his blood as she now didn't care if she was throwing deadly curses at him.

"Give it back, Riddle!" she said just as he conjured a shield between them. Her curses hit the blue wall that protected him and flew back at her.

While Granger was busy trying to get hid of the shield, Tom put his hand inside his robes, searching for something. As soon as his fingers closed around the object he was looking for, a wild smile appeared on his face and he pulled out what looked like a huge snake fang. Hermione noticed it and, recognizing what he was holding, let out a panicked shriek and swung her arm forward, making a strong blast hit the shield. It worked and made Riddle get pushed behind, his body hitting the wall and making him crumple to the floor, the fang and the pendant still firm in his hands but his wand rolling away from him on the floor.

"You surely didn't think…"

"That I would be able to destroy it?" he asked, laughing.

"It's over, Riddle." She approached him, her wand pointing at his face. "You are wandless and it's useless trying to defeat me now."

"You forget one thing, Miss Granger," said Tom, his blue eyes shining with contentment. "They always said you were the best witch of your year, didn't they? Well, guess who was the best wizard of mine?"

Hermione was about to reply when a loud scream escaped from her mouth and she fell to the floor, gripping her right leg with both hands and feeling her eyes fill up with tears as a strong pang of pain shot up from her leg. The thing was that most wizards and witches could perform a Cruciatus curse on the whole body when armed with a wand but not many of them knew how the curse worked or ever tried to work it isolated on certain limbs. It was an easy thing to do, Tom discovered. It was just concentrating on stimulating the nerves and the pain would appear…

"Also, you could have chosen a better vessel for part of your soul. A necklace your friend Potter gave you is utterly silly," he said, placing the pendant on the floor and putting more magic working on her leg's nerve, making it impossible for her to move.

Riddle had studied about horcrux and knew very well that the destruction of one wouldn't affect the original soul directly. Hermione Granger wouldn't feel any pain if he stabbed that pendant with the basilisk fang – by the way, the fact he was the heir of Salazar Slytherin made itself useful for the first time when he decided he needed to get one of those fangs – but, as soon as the point of the fang touched the object, Granger screamed even louder, though Tom thought it was out of rage and not because of pain.

He was close to win over that woman, so close! The only piece of her soul that was detached from her body was now being destroyed by his own hands. Now he only needed to finish the original body and…

_"Sectumsempra!"_

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

Tom didn't even have time to watch as Hermione Granger's body fell forward, reaching the floor with a soft _thud_, her brown eyes widened and staring at nothing. His thoughts were to busy with the stabbing pain that shot up his torso and made him want to scream and cry as much as he could. The wizard sat down and leaned against the wall, looking down at his own body. Dark patches of blood were appearing on his robes. With trembling fingers, the man opened its buttons only to find huge, deep cuts crossing his abdomen and thorax, wetting his skin with dark blood.

Riddle let his blue eyes watch Hermione's corpse for a moment before letting a choked laugh escape from his lips before coughing and feeling blood coming up to his mouth. She was the best witch of her age, after all. They both were the best magical beings of their age, and there was nothing fairer than to die by each other hands, after all.

* * *

_'I picked up the bird and above the dim I said_  
_ "That's the last song you'll ever sing"_  
_ Held him down, broke his neck_  
_ Taught him a lesson he wouldn't forget'_


End file.
